Aut Caesar Aut Nihil
by nightmistral
Summary: AU one-shot. Rufus and Tseng. "No!" He snaps, because, really, the only thing holding his world together is himself. He's caught between the ifs and whys and how can this bes, lost in the swirling miasma of his own self-hatred.


Disclaimer: I don't own FF7, it being the property of Square Enix, and all that.

Title: Aut Caesar aut nihil

Pairing: I don't know. _Possibly _Rufus and Tseng.

Summary: As usual, fooling around with timelines and the spaces in between. Rufus winds up on Wall Street, and ShinRa Electric gets listed.

A/N: Inspired by karanguni's Nasdack

"No!" He snaps, because, really, the only thing holding his world together is himself. He's caught between the _ifs_ and _whys_ and _how can this bes_, lost in the swirling miasma of his own self-hatred.

He clenches his fist. On the board, the numbers whirl, uncaring, unnoticing, unfeeling. Spiralling, down, down, down. Red and red and red and no black in between to buoy the falling exchange, no green to herald a change in the wind, at long last.

_It's over. Isn't it?_ Elena had ventured, fingers trembling slightly as she handed him yet another print-out, every digit a stark condemnation.

_Sir, we regret to report yet another loss – stock fell by some 75% to only a quarter of its original value… It is best, we recommend, that you pull out of the market all together -_ "You might as well damn me to hell then." His voice is hoarse, and he realises, albeit detachedly, _weak_ for the first time in so many years. Then again, this is a precedence. No market has fallen on its knees and been bludgeoned so badly before.

Newsflash on CNN, and Lehmann, that big lumbering beast, is down. A hundred years of eminence and opulence, reduced to nothing but chaff in the wind.

Reno says nothing as he steps in, no doubt with more bad tidings, but Rufus can feel the acute questions in his gaze, _What chance do we have, Boss? Ain't it nothing but the shit heap for us? _

_But he could not stand by and not do anything -_

Tseng lays a hand on his shoulder, "Better to be a sinner alive than dead and burning, sir." He is crisp, clinical and coldly efficient – _all I asked for when I hired you, and more – _but Rufus didn't agree. Couldn't agree, because it meant relinquishing _everything_. Money isn't the issue – the ShinRas have always been more than able to tide over the crash and still keep their entire retinue in order, but the _stakes_ are.

The wolves are just outside the door, with nothing but a thin veneer of wood to keep them away, and they are _hungry_. Rufus can easily name a list of rival CEOs who would leap at the chance to carve up ShinRa Electric Company whilst it is hamstrung and crippled, "I am not _running away_, Tseng," he hisses, "It might be the easy option, but I do _not_ run from externalities."

Blue locks with brown, and his fingers wrap around Tseng's lapels, pulling him closer until they are face to face, "_I will not run_. I am _not_ leaving, Tseng. Do what you will, but I am going to stand and fight."

Tseng carefully pries his hands away, "That, sir, is an extremely foolish option."

"Foolish it may be, but I'm going through with it." Rufus's jaw is set. Tseng knows that look. It means that all hell is going to break loose, that _someone_, and he has a good idea who, is going to go down. He's served under ShinRa Sr., and Rufus is no different. Like father, like son, cut from the same cloth, bestowed with the same genius and the same iron will. The only difference is the discontent breeding in Rufus's soul, and the burning want for more.

There are a dozen good reasons why he should just take his leave now and let the empire fall, burn and die – ashes to ashes, dust to dust, forever more buried in the past – like for the fact that Rufus is a tyrant, and number two, there are countless other options elsewhere. But there are _also_ many more good reasons why he should stay and fight it out. The first being that Rufus, despite all his tactical brilliance, is nothing more than a _child_. The second is that he can no more leave than tear himself asunder. Rufus draws him inexorably, with his words, his manner, his _presence_, and he can do _nothing_ but follow.

He hates it. Hates it with every fibre of his soul – but still he gives in to that siren call.

He sighs. Sixty-four floors beneath him, Wall Street is imploding, caving in on itself like a house on fire, the flames fuelled by the wreckage on Main Street. The world, as if shaken by Meteor, is changing its course and the great gaming board of the gods has been upended, the dice skittering and scraping and sliding, and who knows what numbers it will show when all this is over?

"Since the world is already burning, I see no difference in leaping into the flames first, sir. Although," and here he smiles wryly, "it would be more accurate to say we're jumping out of the pot and onto the fire."

Rufus looks up at him, and he sees the _boy_ within for the briefest of an instant, fragile and _frightened, _but it is gone in a flash, to replaced by resolution, cold and hard and ineradicable.

_Thank you_, he reads, the words falling unspoken between them.

Each of them knows the risks. The vultures are circling overhead, the wolves running alongside, and if they're not careful, it will be a long, long way to fall.

_But they are ShinRa. And ShinRa will prevail_.

"We will rebuild, and make this empire great again."

Foolish words? Perhaps. Empty words? He does not doubt so.

All he knows is this – where Rufus goes, he will follow.

_Aut Caesar aut nihil_.

And Rufus it will be.

*A/N: It's either Caesar or nothing, well technically, it's either _Rufus_ or nothing, but anyway… ^^


End file.
